Every year, I entered the month of Ramazan with a dramatic timetable, at least four colourful highlighters and the confidence of someone who had watched exactly three productivity reels on Instagram — back to back. And every year, by the third fast, I was lying on the bed at 2pm, staring at the ceiling fan like it was revealing the secrets of the universe.

This year was supposed to be different.

My pre-Ramazan academic record was… let’s just say if grades had personalities, mine would need therapy. As someone whose exams were just after Eid, I knew I couldn’t afford to keep saying, “Guys, just wait. My academic comeback is on its way,” and that too after every test. My books had started looking at me with disappointment. Even my highlighters seemed offended by how nicely they were arranged on the table and how little they were being used.

Then, on the second night of Ramazan (see how the timetable was already delayed), after the Isha prayer, I made a little prayer. Not a dramatic one about becoming a topper overnight without studying, but a simple one asking for discipline and focus.

The next day, I woke up for sehri with puffy eyes and zero motivation, and by the time it was after Fajr, nothing looked more attractive than my bed. As I dragged my feet towards it, my eyes fell on my biology book placed on my study table. I desperately tried to ignore it, but something held me back. Slowly, I dropped into the chair and opened the book.

“Just 30 minutes and then sleep,” I told myself.

Those 30 minutes turned into 45. And for the first time in months, I wasn’t just underlining sentences like an artist with anger issues — I was actually understanding them. And somehow, miraculously, it became a routine.

By the seventh fast, I even started liking my early mornings. There’s just a different kind of peace in Ramazan mornings. The world is quiet. My phone is silent. It’s too early to be distracted by random thoughts of iftar.

Slowly but surely, I had built a rhythm. A proper routine was set up. It wasn’t that I had turned into a productivity machine, but at least I wasn’t wasting my days thinking about a “potential academic comeback.”

And with that, a realisation came too — Ramazan gave my days structure. There were fixed prayer times, fixed meal times, fixed spiritual goals and now fixed academic goals too. After Zuhr, revise one chapter. Before Maghrib, solve 20 MCQs. Before sleeping, review mistakes.

Fasting was no longer just about staying away from food; it was about control. If I could control my hunger, I could control my procrastination. If I could wake up for Fajr daily, I could wake up for my goals too.

Amidst all that, my biggest fear developed. Now it wasn’t about failing exams, but about falling back into my old habits once Ramazan was over. So I started adding one more line to my duas: “My Allah, make me someone who works hard consistently, even after Ramazan ends.”

Soon, practice tests became easier, and I grew more confident about my exams. And for the first time in a long while, when someone asked me at an iftar party, “How are your studies going?” I didn’t laugh nervously.

I smiled. “Alhamdulillah,” I said. “Better than before.”

Published in Dawn, Young World, March 28th, 2026